This is sure to give you goosebumps.
“Conflicted” …. a brilliant story by Len
Every evening my ma would sit me on a stool, run her fingers lovingly through my hair and brush with gentle downward strokes. Her tenseness and agitation would lessen with each stroke of the brush and each sip of Jack Daniels.
“You’re my little angel” she would repeat over and over as if in a trance ” my little angel”. After a while she would tell me about my daddy.
Your daddy was always holding up the wall besides Lucy’s convenience store, a cigarette dangling from his mouth, a permanent smirk on his face. I would pass that way every morning and afternoon going to and…
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